


Montana

by Merideath



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Banter, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Making Out, Masturbation, Resolved Sexual Tension, Road Trips, Safer Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Sharing a Bed, Trope Bingo Round 2, Tropes, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 16:05:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merideath/pseuds/Merideath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Darcy:  Are you still coming to visit today?</i>
</p><p>He can’t help but smile at that. Darcy’s his...well, Darcy is his best friend. His only friend outside of the team. The reason he has stopped in a tiny diner in Montana on his drive along I-90 to Seattle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blue Star Diner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katertots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katertots/gifts).



> This fic started with a conversation with Katy (as many of them do) about Betty White being awesome, the Proposal movie, and other road trip/romantic comedies and a plotbunny was formed. There is only the vaguest thread from the movie, mainly towards the beginning (If you've seen the movie you'll know) and Darcy's grandmother Betty. I wasn't sure about writing it, but Katy said she must have it for her birthday. So I started writing it for her. As you do.
> 
> Then she got the task of beta'ing it and listening to me whine as I decided I hated my title and every subsequent title I could find. 
> 
> It's fluff and humour and friends falling in love and lust. The fic is complete and I will post the next chapter when Katy tells me I can. Montana was chosen as its pretty, and well, I've been there. Anyway I hope you enjoy reading it.

**Blue Star Diner (somewhere off I-90 near Missoula, Montana)**

“Take a seat by the window and I’ll be right with you, handsome,” shouts a waitress with blue hair, a crisp blue and white checked uniform, a red trimmed white apron with a blue stars along the edge. Steve scratches his jaw and chooses a window booth. The seats are comfortable faded red leather, the tabletop edged in cold metal. Tapping his fingers on the table, he lets his eyes roam around the interior of the Blue Star Diner. There are the framed pictures on the wall, and he can’t help but smile sheepishly when his eyes fall on a Captain America poster.

“My Arnold used to collect all those Captain America comics when he was a kid. Coffee?” says the waitress handing him a laminated menu and brandishing a carafe of coffee.

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve says glancing down at the menu in his hand. The waitress, Lynette, according to the name written on the red name badge pinned to her uniform, flips over a white mug on the table, fills it to the brim, and pulls a handful of creamers out of her apron pocket. “Thanks.”

“I’ll give you a minute,” Lynette says wandering off to refill the empty coffee mugs on another table. Steve is halfway through reading the menu when his phone buzzes inside his jacket. He pulls his phone out and slides his thumb across the screen.

 **Darcy:** Are you still coming to visit today?

He can’t help but smile at that. Darcy’s his...well, Darcy is his best friend. His only friend outside of the team. The reason he has stopped in a tiny diner in Montana on his drive along I-90 to Seattle.

 **Steve:** I’m at the Blue Star Diner. The map on my phone says I'm about an hour out from you?

He sets down his phone, sips his coffee, and looks through the menu while he waits for Darcy’s reply. He doesn’t have to wait long.

 **Darcy:** Pfft. Not the way you drive, Rogers.  
 **Darcy:** Order the Blue Star Meatloaf.  
 **Darcy:** Lynette’s pies are the bomb.  
 **Darcy:** Don’t tell my grandmother I said that. :oX  
 **Darcy:** See you after lunch then. :o)

 **Steve:** I promise not to tell. See you soon, Darcy. 

“Have you decided on lunch?” Lynette asks, brandishing a notepad and a red pen with a blue star bouncing on a spring.

“My friend says I have to order the Blue Star Meatloaf.”

“Hashbrowns, mashed potatoes, or fries with that?”

“All three and a vanilla shake,” Steve says, and Lynette looks him over with a little humming sound.

“Anything else, handsome?”

“What pies are on the menu today?”

“Cherry, apple, caramel apple, peach, blueberry, chocolate cream, rhubarb, and strawberry.”

“I’ll have a slice of cherry and a slice of the caramel apple please,” Steve says smiling up at Lynette who shakes her head and scribbles his order down on her note pad.

............

The ride through the town of White Pine proves enlightening, with its neat brick buildings, colorful bunting flapping in the breeze, and lights strung across the street. When he stops to let a family cross the street, his eyes alight on Lewis & Co General Store, Lewis and Sons Law Offices, and Lewis Books.

The road to the Double L ranch is narrow and twisting with views of open fields, trees, and mountains in the distance. He makes the turn onto the Lewis family property. The drive is tree lined, the sprawling house hidden behind a row of pine trees. He had expected a small ranch house, but the Lewis house is huge, two floors, stone fireplaces, and a wraparound porch. He kicks the stand on his bike, grabs his bag, and heads for the open door.

“Steve,” Darcy shouts when he raises his hand to knock on the doorframe. She’s a blur of red and glossy brown curls when she barrels into his chest, wrapping her arms around him. Steve lets his bag drop to the floor and hugs her back, breathing in the apple scent of her hair. From the first day he met Darcy months ago she has always been affectionate towards him, towards everyone, and he can never find the words to express how nice it is to be treated like everyone else. “I thought I heard the bike roar up.”

“Hello, Darce, miss me?” Steve says dryly, though he can’t keep the grin off his face, and can’t help tightening his arms around her just a little bit more. Darcy looks up at him, scrunching her nose, and tilting her head to the side.

“It’s been all of two weeks since we watched Gone with the Wind together, and you stole all the jelly beans.”

“I did not,” Steve says, slightly affronted, he only ate most of the jelly beans, not all of them.

“Pfft. Starburst Jelly Beans, Steven. You owe me a bag,” Darcy pouts, reaching up to pinch his cheek.

“Quit it, Darce,” he grumbles, pushing her hand away. Darcy grins, pushes her glasses up on her nose, and bends down to heft up his bag.

“Damn, what the hell have you got in here, Steve? Rocks?”

“Give me that,” he says, making a grab for his leather bag, and Darcy dances back a step out of his reach.

“So I finally get to meet your boyfriend,” says a voice down the hallway. Steve looks up to see an elderly woman with wild white curls, kind eyes, and sharp smile.

“He isn’t my boyfriend. He’s just my friend, Grammy,” Darcy says, shifting his bag from one hand to the other.

“Mhmm, just keep on saying that, dear.”

“Steve, meet Grandma Lewis.”

“Call me Betty,” Grandma Lewis says.

“Grammy, meet Steve Rogers, my best friend, you know aside from my iPod. Oh and my laptop,” Darcy grins, rocking up onto her toes, his bag swinging back and forth in her hands as Grandma Lewis steps closer and takes his hand in both of hers.

“Don’t I feel honored,” Steve says, arching a brow at Darcy.

“You should be,” Darcy says, sticking her tongue out at him.

“Well, aren’t you a fine specimen of a man,” Betty says feeling up his arm and patting his chest.

“Er, thank you?” Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck, Darcy snickering beside him.

“Which room can I put Steve in? The blue guest room?” Darcy asks as he fails at pulling his bag out of her hands.

“Oh no, dear, Tommy will be flying in tonight with his boyfriend. Steve will be in your room,” Betty smiles and pats the side of his face.

“That liar. Tom said he wasn’t gonna make it,” Darcy pouts.

“That’s because you asked him. I just told him, dear.”

“Is there a hotel in town? I can go—”

“No. You’re here, you’re family,” Betty nods and claps her hands together.

“Come on, Steve, I’ll show you my room. It’ll be fine,” Darcy says, tugging on his jacket sleeve.

“But—” Steve starts, planting his feet firmly.

“No use arguing with her. You can’t win, believe me, even my mother can’t win an argument with her.”  
“No need to keep the door open, dear. I wouldn’t if I were you,” Betty says with a leer and wiggles her eyebrows.

“Grammy!”

“Go on skedaddle now. I have things to do,” Betty says with a slightly unnerving smile, making a shooing gesture with her hands. Darcy hefts his bag up on her shoulder and steps towards the curving wooden staircase.

“Come on, Steve,” Darcy says, looking over her shoulder at him. Steve takes a step to follow her when a hand squeezes his ass and his step falters.

“Oh, if only I was forty years younger,” Betty cackles behind him as he chases up the stairs after Darcy.

“Your grandmother just...” Steve trails off when they reach the relative safety of the top of the stairs.

“Grammy just what?” Darcy turns to look at him eyebrows twitching up.

“Uh, never mind,” he mutters, scratching the back of his neck and taking a closer look at the framed photographs hanging on the walls.

“She pinched your ass didn’t she?” Darcy grins crookedly at him and he huffs out a laugh. “I can’t say I blame her. What? Don’t look at me like that. Just because we’re friends and nothing more doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the view. Or that you can’t either.”

“Um,” Steve says, keeping his eyes on a photograph of a group of five children, four older boys and a little girl holding a puppy in her arms. “Is that you?” he asks, it’s a cowardly move but he isn’t going to admit that he has definitely noticed and admired Darcy’s curves on more than one occasion.

“Yup, my brothers, too. They will all be here for dinner later...apparently. I may have forgotten to mention it’s a bit of a full house around here this week. It’s this whole town anniversary thing. There are picnics and a carnival—the whole small town gig, yanno?” Darcy says, stepping down the hall and opening a door. Steve nods, but he really has no idea about small town community spirit. “This is us.”

Darcy’s room is neater than he expected, done up in creams and purples, a window seat with an open book and Darcy’s iPod, a large desk with her laptop and an open bag of Starburst Jelly Beans. She drops his bag on the corner of her four poster bed and plops down beside it. “Closet's there, bathroom is through that door. It's gonna be just like a slumber party, we can stay up late eating junk food and watching bad movies on my laptop."

“How is that different than any other night we hang out,” he asks, though he isn’t at all convinced he shouldn’t go find a hotel for the night. It’s true that they do tend to spend a lot of time together, at least since he and Beth went their separate ways. It still didn’t mean that it was fine to have two single people share the same bed. Steve’s never thought of Darcy as anything other than a friend who managed to worm her way into his life despite his being a grumpy bastard most of the time. Darcy rolled with his moods, sat with him after bad missions and his breakup with Beth, who couldn’t deal with him coming back from missions busted up and, in Darcy’s words, ‘hissing like an angry cat’. Still.

“Stop thinking so hard, Steve. What’s the worst that can happen? We’re totes cool. You’re my best friend. Really, dude, you need to chillax. We can paint each other’s nails, and you can tell me stories about how much things cost in the good old days.”

"Chillax," Steve says flatly as he unzips his bag and pulls out a neatly folded checked shirt. Darcy snorts, flopping back on the bed, stretching her arms over her head. Her green t-shirt rides up, revealing pale skin above the top of her jeans. Steve swallows hard, focusing on pulling a few books and his Kindle from his bag.

"What is the rule about using modern slang?"

"I forget. Why don't you remind me?” he smirks, and Darcy rolls her eyes and grabs one of his books, idly flipping through the pages. “Were you going to tell me about all this?”

“My room?”

“The house? The shops in town with the Lewis name on them.”

“Oh. That.”

“Oh that,” Steve mocks softly, raising his brows as he pulls his toiletries bag out and fiddles with the zipper.

“Big family,” Darcy sits up, shrugs, and pulls the bag out of his hands and takes it to the bathroom for him as she talks. “Grammy had eight children, and before that Great-Grandpa Lewis had ten. There are a lot of cousins and second cousins. Not everyone still lives in town, but a lot of them will be here for Grammy’s birthday and the Barn Dance.”

“Barn Dance?”

“Oh God, you don’t want to go to that, believe me. It couldn’t be any more cliché, but it raises a lot of money for the town and its charities. Grand tour?” Darcy says before dragging him out of her room and taking him on a whirlwind tour of the house. She babbles on as they walk through the rooms and out onto the covered porch, around through the kitchen, pilfering cornbread muffins from the cooling rack. Steve tries to examine the family photographs dotted all over the house, but anytime he looks too closely at them Darcy tugs on his shirt sleeve to distract him.

.........

“No. Oh God, no, Tom! You would have to pay me money or do a Clockwork Orange on me to make me watch that,” Darcy says as she leans forward, spearing the last pork chop out from under the nose of her eldest brother, Will, and drops it on his plate.

“Hey, lizard breath, that was mine,” Will says, fork still held up.

“Bite me, Billy Bob. You weren’t quick enough and Steve’s a guest.”

“Darce, I don’t want to be a bother,” Steve says, frowning down at the pork chop on his plate.

“Don’t worry, Steve. It’s fine, Will’s supposed to be on a diet anyway. Right, Melinda?” Darcy asks, turning to look at Will’s wife as she spoons food into her youngest child’s mouth. The baby spits out the green peas and shoves a fist into his mouth, and Melinda sighs and wipes her hands on a napkin.

“Eat your salad, Will,” Melinda says, lips twitching as Will grumbles and spears a piece of tomato with his fork.

“Steven, our Darcy tells us you work at SI with her. That’s how you met?” Elaine asks, and he sets his cutlery down to answer.

“Yes, I work in SI, but we—”

“Oh my god, Mom. Enough with the questions. Steve’s not on the witness stand,” Darcy says as she breaks a cornbread muffin in half, placing the larger half on the edge of his plate.

“I just want to know who the man is that is sleeping in my daughter’s bed,”

“You never questioned the boys on who they brought home. Remember when you and Daddy went to Vegas for your anniversary and came back early? Which was lucky as Tommy’s girlfriend was in the middle of robbing us blind.”

“Hey,” Tom shouts, pointing his fork full of potatoes at Darcy.

“Sorry, Tom, but you have terrible taste in women. Thank god your taste in men is better,” Darcy grins, raises her glass at Tom’s boyfriend, Nathan, who grins back and pats Tom’s cheek.

“We can all drink to that, Thomas,” Betty laughs raising her bottle of beer and taking a sip.

“I just want to know—” Elaine starts to say.

“Ellie, leave them alone. Steven’s a very sweet boy. I like him better than when Michael brought you home,” Betty says pointedly. Elaine splutters, and Darcy’s dad, Michael, sighs heavily and shakes his head.

The rest of dinner had been no less interesting than the start. Darcy sat beside him and made general commentary on her family while rebuffing any other questions her mother sent his way. It had been nice in the end, watching Darcy interact with her family. Long after the coffee had been drunk and the chocolate cake demolished, it was late and time for bed. He was more than a little bit anxious of the sleeping arrangement by the time they had closed the bedroom door leaving them alone in Darcy’s room. Logically, it shouldn’t be any different than all the times Darcy fell asleep on his shoulder while they watched whatever movies she or his team felt was imperative to watch.

“Stop it,” Darcy says as she pulls something out of a drawer while he runs his fingers along the seam of his t-shirt.

“Stop what?”

“Being weird....well, weirder than normal.”

“And we’re friends because?” he arches a brow, letting his hands fall to the side and picking up his Kindle.

“Because I’m awesome and you love me,” Darcy grins, poking him in the side on her way to the bathroom.

“You _are_ awesome,” he agrees, sitting at the head of the bed and slipping his socks off. Steve settles down with his Kindle while Darcy gets ready for bed in the bathroom. He is midway down the page when Darcy steps out of the bathroom, her hair braided over her shoulder and sparkly red polish on her toes. "What are you wearing?" Steve blurts out.

"Uh, pajamas," Darcy says, tugging at her pajama bottoms covered in the cartoon faces of himself and his team. "They're cute. Grammy bought them for me last week."

"But—"

"No buts. I'm wearing this for your benefit, Rogers. Normally I sleep naked," Darcy says as she pulls the quilt back and hops into bed. Her breasts bounce in her blue tank top and Steve struggles to tear his eyes away from the sight.

"I didn't need to know that," he huffs out, rubbing his knuckles along his jaw. 

"The more you know," Darcy says waving her arm in an arc her hand opened wide. Steve stares at her blankly, brow furrowed. "Sheesh, tough crowd."

They end up watching movies on Darcy’s laptop until she falls asleep beside him, her glasses perched crookedly on her nose. He takes her glasses and folds them up carefully before placing them on her bedside table. Steve brushes a strand of hair away from her face, her nose wrinkles at his touch and she burrows down into her pillow. He checks his email on Darcy’s laptop, replies to a few before closing it and settling down to sleep a carefully measured distance from Darcy’s sleeping form.


	2. borrowed horses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your fantastic response to chapter one. It makes me so happy to know that you are enjoying this fluffy little verse. I love having Darcy and Steve away from the tower in this, away from the Avengers, SHIELD, and mad scientists. I have a lot of feels for this verse. Also Betty is the absolute best. 
> 
> Many many thanks to Katy for being my person and kicking my fic into shape. 
> 
> The next chapter will be up in a few days. When Katy says so. Cause she's the boss.
> 
> Also I'm watching New Girl right now and hiding behind my computer screen. Why can I write awkward but not watch it?

Steve wakes curled on his side; it’s nothing new, but what is new is who he’s curled around. His hand is underneath Darcy’s thin tank top, cupping her breast, her nipple hard against the palm of his hand. “Damn,” he mutters, loosening his grip and pulling his guilty hand away from her skin and out from under her shirt. Darcy whimpers, arching back into him, her ass rubbing against his erection. Steve groans, and rocks his hips forward. Fuck. 

Steve eases himself back, rolls away from the tempting warmth of Darcy’s curves, and sits up on the edge of the bed. The bare floorboards are cold under his feet. He curls his toes and stands, giving his cock a squeeze through the cotton of his sweats stifling a groan. 

“Steve? Time’s it?” Darcy mumbles and he freezes dropping his hands to his side.

“S’okay, Darcy, it’s still dark. Go back to sleep I’m just going to the can...the, uh bathroom,” Steve says listening to the blankets shift as Darcy moves.

“M’kay,” Darcy murmurs sleepily behind him.

Steve tiptoes across the floor into the bathroom. He breathes out a sigh as he leans against the closed door. He turns the lock, flicks the light switch, and winces when he catches his reflection in the mirror—dark eyes and flushed cheeks. He closes his eyes and all he can see is the way Darcy’s tits bounced in her blue tank top when she threw herself on the bed last night and he can still feel the heaviness of her breast in his hand. He trails his fingertips along the ridge of his cock through the soft cotton of his sweats and bites back a groan. 

“Damn,” he mutters, banging his head back against the solid wood of the door. He licks his lips, slips his hand under the elastic waistband of his sweats, and curls his hand loosely around his cock. He strokes himself slowly, biting his lip to muffle the groan. Fuck, he thinks, withdrawing his hand and stalking to the sink. He turns on the cold water and washes his hands, splashes more water over his face. It does nothing to cool the heat pooling in his belly, crawling up his spine. 

Steve glances at the lock on the door, huffs out a breath, and shoves his sweat down his hips. He tells himself he is an idiot ten times over as he wraps his hand around himself, fingers cold on the hot skin of his cock. Thoughts of Darcy flood through his mind, the feel of her skin beneath his hand, her whimper as he pulled away from her. He wonders what Darcy would sound like when she comes, how sweet she would taste on his tongue. He braces his hand on the counter, thrusting into the circle of his hand. Steve breathes in the smell his own arousal, musky and heavy; sweat drips down his spine, his forehead. He licks his lips and tastes it on his tongue. If he could think beyond the feel of his hand around his dick, think past the explicit fantasies swirling around his head he would be filled with shame, drowning in guilt. 

Steve rubs his thumb over the head of his cock, his hips jerking in response, and he bites off a moan, fingers tightening along his length. He jerks himself hard and fast, breathing an uneven pant and blood roaring in his ears. He has enough presence of mind to cup his hand over the end of his dick before he comes. Darcy’s name is in his mouth when he tips over the edge, coming so hard his vision whites out. 

“Christ,” Steve gasps, avoiding meeting his own eyes in the mirror. He cleans himself up, washing his hands with Darcy’s flowery soap, and pulls his sweats back up over the curve of his ass. Darcy is sprawled across the bed when he steps into the bedroom, and he is sorely tempted to slide under the blankets and curl up with her. Instead he grabs running clothes out of his bag and retreats back to the bathroom, changing as quickly as possible he carries his running shoes and his iPod downstairs with him. 

Keeping to the roads, as Darcy’s family warned him, he runs for hours until the sun is up and he can the birds chirping through the music playing from his earbuds. The thoughts from earlier still clear in his mind, he drinks the last of his bottle of water and heads back to the house. Darcy’s gone when he slips into her room, their room, and he makes quick work of showering and dressing in clean jeans and a green button down shirt. Following his nose towards the smell of bacon grease and coffee, he finds Darcy and Grandma Betty alone in the kitchen. Darcy’s in her pajamas still, with an orange cardigan pulled over her blue tank top.

“Mornin’,” Steve rumbles, eyeing up the pot of coffee. He doesn’t need the caffeine, but he has never turned down a good cup of coffee.

“Steve,” Darcy greets, raising her cup at him. He pulls the cup for her hand, sipping from it. It’s too milky, but good coffee is good coffee. Darcy pouts at him and he hands the mug back. 

“Good morning, Steven. Sleep well?” Betty smiles up at him. 

Steve’s brain fails him. All he can think of is the way he woke tangled up with Darcy. “Yes, ma’am,” he says. Darcy cocks her head to the side, narrowing her eyes at him as she sips from a bright yellow coffee mug.

“Darcy, be a dear and get the man his own coffee. You’ve missed breakfast with everyone. Darcy made sure to save you a plate,” Betty says, opening the oven and pulling out a warm plate heaped with bacon, sausage, and eggs and setting it down on the breakfast bar. “Sit down and eat,” Betty orders, and Steve dutifully perches on a chair.

“I’m sorry—,”

“Dude, it’s fine. You were doing your roadrunner impression,” Darcy says, turning to pour him a mug, adding a spoon and a half of sugar and stirring slowly. “You still up for riding in a bit?”

“Yes.”

“Right, I best get dressed and get the horses saddled. Meet me at the stable in twenty,” Darcy says, taking a last sip of her coffee and swiping a piece of bacon from his plate before dashing out of the room. He eats his breakfast while listening to Betty’s bright chatter about life on the ranch, her children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. It’s...well, it’s just nice. After he clears his plate, Betty grabs his arm and together they walk out to meet Darcy. 

Darcy rides out of the stables on a russet colored mare, leading a darker brown horse. Steve’s steps grind to a halt and he can’t look away from Darcy. She’s dressed in faded jeans, a blue checked shirt, and a tooled leather shoulder holster. Darcy’s always been beautiful, but right now, with only the lightest dusting of makeup and a piece of straw sticking out of her hair, she’s breathtaking. 

“Christ,” he mutters low under his breath when Darcy pulls the horse to a stop, swings her leg over, and drops down to the ground. He really shouldn’t be focusing so much on Darcy’s curves. Those thoughts swirling in the back of his head were only going to lead to trouble. Betty cackles beside him and he freezes, dropping his gaze from Darcy.

“You ready, Rogers?” Darcy grins, raising her arms to tighten her ponytail. The buttons of her blue checked shirt strain across the front and Steve bites his tongue to focus on something else. 

“I’ll leave you kids to it. Ride him hard, Darcy...the horse too. I would if it weren’t for my bad hip,” Betty says, smacking Steve on the ass. Darcy’s eyes widen behind her glasses and he’s pretty sure the look on her face is a mirror of his own. 

“Oh, my god! Steve I...uh...I’ve got nothing,” Darcy says, covering her flushed cheeks with her hands. “Ride?” Darcy asks, voice choked and all he can do is nod and take the reins Darcy offers him. “Steve, meet Whiskey,” Darcy says rubbing Whiskey’s face, “He promises to behave himself today.”

“Hey, Whiskey,” Steve greets reaching out. Whiskey snorts at Steve’s hand and allows him to rub his face, his thumb brushing against Darcy’s hand before she pulls away.

“I’m sorry about Grammy. She has less of a filter than I do,” Darcy winces and the russet nudges her shoulder. “Daisy,” Darcy huffs.

"I didn't know you could shoot," Steve says, deftly changing the subject as he pats Whiskey’s side and grabs the saddle horn. 

"You never asked," Darcy says, swinging up on Daisy's saddle and patting the russet horse on the shoulder. "Thor's lucky I only had my taser when he fell from the sky. There are bears, wolves, and occasionally mountain lions here. If you aren’t armed you’ll end up dead. You sure you can ride, Captain?"

"I can ride, Lewis. There was a mission in Italy...during the war. Bucky, Morita, and me we uh...borrowed some horses,” Steve says, the smile slipping from his face. There is still an ache there when he thinks about the past, a year ago to him but much longer to the world. Darcy leans over in the saddle, puts her hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. Steve covers her hand with his, savoring her touch for just a moment before pulling away to swing up into Whiskey’s saddle, the leather creaking beneath him.

“So, tell me about the Junior Rodeo then," Steve says with a sly smile, changing the topic. "Your grandmother promised me there are pictures and ribbons."

"Oh no, definitely not," Darcy says, cheeks turning pink as she presses her heels into Daisy's sides and the horse leaps forward. Steve and Whiskey follow at a more leisurely pace as they get to know each other. The mountain air is still quite cool but warming up as the day ages, and Steve enjoys the quiet. Darcy glances over at him every now and again, offering up a bright smile. She’s different here, more open and less guarded than when they are in the tower or at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. 

“You ready for a rest?” Darcy asks when they reach a small creek winding, studded with small trees, flowering bushes, and a fallen pine tree. Steve nods and they dismount. Darcy starts digging in her saddlebag, pulling out a brown paper sack, a book, and his sketchbook. 

“You brought my sketchbook?”

“Well, duh. You bring it everywhere,” Darcy says, rolling her eyes and tossing him his sketchbook, a pen carefully tucked inside. “Cookie or apple?”

“Both,” Steve says, sitting down on the fallen pine and opening his sketchbook to a blank page. He loses track of time as he sketches the horses, the mountains, Darcy reading her book, twisting the end of her ponytail in her hand, the little white flowers on the nearest bush, and a young deer that’s brave or stupid enough to venture down to the creek. While he sketches, Darcy talks softly, when not burying her nose in her tattered paperback romance. “You gonna tell me about learning to shoot?”

“Grammy taught me when I was little and my brothers and my mother said I wasn’t allowed. Grammy didn’t listen to them. She rarely ever listens to Elaine anyway. She bought me my first rifle, my first computer, and my first truck—all to spite my mother, I think. The same reason I took the internship with Jane instead of working another summer in Lewis and Sons Law Offices with her, Uncle Jake, and my brother, Alex. I like arguing--"

"I know you do," Steve smirks and Darcy elbows him in the ribs. "Ow, you have sharp elbows."

"Oh my god you baby. As I was saying, I like arguing I just didn’t want to be a lawyer. The internship was the best worst thing to ever happen to me.”

“I’m glad you did,” Steve says. If Darcy hadn’t have got tangled up with Dr. Foster and S.H.I.E.L.D. then they may never have met and become friends while Darcy fussed after a recovering Agent Coulson and buzzed about the R&D labs, bossing Jane and a gaggle of wide eyed interns around. Darcy hadn’t been in awe of him when they met at a particularly dreadful fundraiser while they were both hiding out on a dimly lit balcony. She’d smiled and laughed when he had grimaced at the pair of agents assigned to trail after him burst through the balcony doors with a hasty salute. "If you didn't who would I steal candy from?"

“Jerk," Darcy huffs, scraping a bit of mud from the knee of her jeans. "We should head back now. I promised I’d take the truck to the store for a few things before dinner,” Darcy says, hopping down and stretching her arms over her head. Steve manages to keep his eyes to himself. Mostly.


	3. treehouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so long to get this chapter out to you. The past week has been hellish. I promise I shall post the last chapter by the end of the week, as it's all ready to rock. 
> 
> Huge thanks go to Britt for beta'ing this chapter and to Katy who encouraged me to write this fluffy bunny in the first place. Any other errors are my own because I couldn't leave well enough alone and kept tweaking things. 
> 
> Thank you everyone who has commented and kudo'd this fluff fest. I hope you enjoy this little chapter.

"Planning your escape from the delights of Camp Lewis tomorrow?" Darcy asks as she drops down beside him on the glider bench on the porch. 

"I figured my plans wouldn't be found out this soon," Steve says, folding up his route planner and placing it in the pages of his travel guide. "Anywhere I should stop along the way?"

"Coffee?"

"You made me download the app."

"There's a good burger joint in Coeur d'Alene, it's older than Grammy and you," she grins, trying to push the glider and failing. Steve's feet are planted firmly on the porch floor.

"Thanks," he says, dryly.

"There are some good bookshops and I think my cousin Jacqueline goes to an art store in Seattle, they live in Tacoma. I'll ask her tomorrow at the Barn Dance and text you the address. I wish I could go with you, but I fly back to reality on Monday. And really that has got to be the weirdest sort of--" 

“Darcy, these cookies won’t bake themselves,” shouts Betty through the open kitchen window.

“Welp, that’s my cue,” Darcy sighs, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Just a minute, Grammy.”

“I could help?” Steve offers with his most sincere tone.

“Pfff, I’m not falling for the puppy dog eyes, Rogers. You won’t help. You will decimate.”

“I hardly think I could decimate—,” Steve starts before Darcy leans over flicking his ear. “Hey,” he yelps, catching her hand; a spark runs down his arm and his breath catches in his throat. 

“Darcy!” Betty shouts again.

“Hold your horses Grammy,” Darcy shouts back, her fingers slipping out of his grip. She cocks her eyebrow at him but he lets his gaze drop to the table holding his sketchbook. It’s cowardly maybe but he’s just not ready to acknowledge that jolt, the way his skin is still buzzing from the slightest touch. 

........

It’s not that he’s eavesdropping, it’s just that his ears are good. The screen door and the kitchen window are open and he’s still sitting on the glider in the shade, sketching and trying to mind his own business. Not that he’s ever been very good at that.

“I’m not going to grad school, mom. We’ve talked about this,” Darcy says, her voice drifting through the window and Steve pauses in his sketching of the deer from yesterday. 

“You need to finish something in your life, Darcy.”

“I finished college.”

“You were going to do something with your life and not just play about on computers all day. You wanted to be a lawyer and make a difference.”

“I never wanted to be a lawyer. I’m not Alex. I love working at the Tower. I am making a difference working at Stark.”

“Darcy, you’re my baby I’m worried about you being in New York. What if something happens there again?”

“Then the Avengers will save the day. It’s what they do.”

“But you’re not a superhero. Tasers are illegal in New York.”

“I know that.”

“Do you think Iron Man is going to save you if something happens again? If those things come back?”

“No, I think Captain America will,” Darcy fires back, and there is the sound of something shattering.

“Don’t you sass me, Darcy Elizabeth,” Elaine shouts back. “Where do you think you are going?”

“Outside,” Darcy snarls. She slams open the screen door, and stomps down the stairs before he can put his pencils and sketchbook down. 

“Darcy?” he calls out but she ignores him, disappearing around the lilac bush in the fenced-in garden. 

“Don’t just stand there, go after her,” Betty nods as she steps out on the porch, making a shooing gesture with a pink tea towel.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve says, running a hand through his hair. He follows the path weaving through the garden and it’s raised wooden beds. At the end of the garden is a little copse of trees and a sprawling treehouse amongst them. “Darcy?” he shouts as he considers his options of climbing the nearest tree or returning to the house alone and facing her grandmother’s wrath. Neither alternative is appealing. “I’m not gonna go back to the house alone, your grandmother would kill me.”

“You can fuck off, Steve.”

“Is that any way to talk to your favourite superhero?” 

“I changed my mind. You aren't my favourite any more, asshat,” Darcy shouts down through the hatch. 

"Charming as ever," Steve says under his breath.

"I heard that," Darcy shouts down.

"C'mon, Darcy," Steve says, scratching the back of his neck which he decides whether or not he should wait out Darcy’s temper or jump for it. Darcy makes the decision for him, throwing down the wooden rung ladder. If not for his quick reflexes, in stepping to the side it would have crashed down onto his head.

“Christ, Darce. That nearly hit me.”

“You know, you whine a lot for a true blue American hero, Rogers,” Darcy mutters as he climbs the ladder. Steve pulls himself into the treehouse and drags the ladder back up, moving out of the way so Darcy can close the hatch again. 

"It's a side effect of wearing tights," he says and Darcy huffs out a laugh. 

“Figures," Darcy says with a shrug."You’re the first boy I've brought up here. Well the first boy I wasn't related to anyway.”

“I promise I don’t have cooties,” he says dryly, dusting off his hands. The treehouse is big enough he could nearly stand in the center of it. The windows are round with little patchwork curtains, a small table with a metal tea set is in one corner, small shelves filled with rocks, toys and books are dotted about the purple and green painted walls. 

“I’m not sure you can make such a promise,” Darcy says, curling herself up on a rolled out blue sleeping bag covered with a pile of faded pillows. 

“Nice treehouse,” he says, picking up a quartz crystal from the shelf and turning it over in his hands. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just angry and frustrated. My mom and I we just don’t see eye to eye. Ever. I’m sorry if you heard any of that,” Darcy says, scrubbing her sleeve over her eyes. Steve puts the crystal back on the shelf and sits down on the sleeping bag beside Darcy, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close. Darcy leans into him, and he imagines for a second pulling her into his lap and kissing her senseless. He shakes his head to dispel the thoughts brewing, breathes in the scent of her orange blossom perfume, and apple scented shampoo. 

“Did you just smell my hair?” Darcy asks, pulling back from his side to look at him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Liar,” Darcy says, tapping her index finger on the end of his nose. 

“Quit it,” Steve huffs, capturing her wrist. 

“Spoilsport,” Darcy says, rolling her eyes and sticking her tongue out at him. Steve snorts, rubbing his thumb on the soft skin of Darcy’s inner wrist. Darcy’s breath catches in her throat, and her eyes dilate. He swipes his thumb across her wrist; Darcy shivers at the touch and licks her lips. Damn. “If you don’t ki—,”

Steve cuts off her words with a kiss, a light brushing of his mouth on hers. He licks into her mouth, strokes his tongue along hers. She tastes like the cookie dough, brown sugar and chocolate sweet on his tongue. He smiles into the kiss, feels a bubble of laugher blooming in his chest. He buries his hand in Darcy’s hair, suckles her bottom lip and Darcy moans, curling her hands into his shirt. Heat prickles down his spine, settling low in his belly. 

“Damn,” he whispers raggedly against her mouth, his heart is racing as he pulls back to look at the woman in his arms. Darcy’s eyes are glassy, her cheeks tinged pink, lips reddened from the kiss. She laughs, a giggle to start and a full deep laugh blinking her eyes. Steve kisses her again, until her laughter dies away and her arms wrap around his neck. He presses her down onto the sleeping bag, thigh between her legs, a hand in her hair cradling the back of her head and he can’t stop grinning into the kiss.

Raining kisses along her jaw and down her neck, he rubs his hand up and down her side; Darcy squirms beneath him, rolls her hips and they both groan. “We should slow down,” he whispers against her collar bone, rocking his hips against her, closing his eyes at the friction against his dick. 

“Not yet,” Darcy gasps, threading her hand through his hair and tugging. “Kiss me again.”

“Pretty sure I’m doin’ that,” Steve murmurs, dropping a kiss to the hinge of her jaw before capturing her mouth, slipping his tongue between her lips to curl against hers. 

“I thought you didn’t carry a weapon,” Darcy grins up at him between panted breaths and rolls her hips. “That feels an awful lot like a weapon to me.” 

“Darce,” he huffs, sliding his hand up to cup her breast, thumbing her nipple through the soft fabric of her shirt and bra. Darcy’s moan goes straight to his cock, and he rocks against her. Fuck, he’s going to end up embarrassing himself if they keep going like this. “We need to—,”

“Darce, you in the treehouse? Grammy’s looking for you,” shouts a voice from below.

“Shit,” Darcy says, eyes widening comically. “I’ll be down in a minute, Alex,” she shouts next to his ear. Steve winces, shutting his eyes and rolling over onto his back. 

Slipping his hand down to adjust himself, Steve takes a few steadying breaths, mentally telling himself to calm down. It wasn’t really working so well. Darcy shifts beside him and he opens his eyes to find her leaning over him. “So, that was unexpected,” she grins and waggles her eyebrows. Steve grunts in response and focuses on the wind chimes and dream catchers hanging from hooks in the ceiling. “Steve?”

“Hmmm,” Steve murmurs and Darcy straddles him, her hands on either side of his head. Steve slides his hands up her thighs to rest on the curve of her hips.

“Not gonna say anything, Captain?” Darcy asks with a slow roll of her hips. Steve curses under his breath, his hands flexing on her hips.

“Darce, you gotta stop,” Steve grimaces. He doesn’t want to say how damn close he is to coming in his jeans like a goddamned teenager. 

“Okay,” Darcy says, lips quirking into a smug smirk before she kisses the corner of his mouth. “But later we’re talking about this...in bed.” 

“Yeah,” Steve says after a heartbeat, pushing thoughts of later, and bed out of his head. He’s kissed her now, and that has changed so many things. Steve groans at the thought of having Darcy in his arms in bed, kissing her, touching her. Damn. She laughs then, a deep rich sound that fills the small space of the treehouse. Darcy rubs their noses together and climbs off him with a wide grin.

“You coming down?” she asks while opening the hatch and kicking the rope ladder down.

“In a minute,” he mutters, willing his body to calm down, there is no way in hell he is walking into Darcy’s family home with a hard-on tenting his jeans. 

“Just a minute?” Darcy grins. Her gaze sweeps over his body settling on the bulge in his pants. 

“Darce,” Steve says holding himself still. The pink tip of her tongue flick out to wet the corner of her mouth. Christ, that wasn’t helping at all. “You’re not helping.” 

“I could,” Darcy says wiggling her eyebrows. 

“I know,” he says, and he wants that far more than is reasonable, sane or remotely gentlemanly. “You best go before you get into more trouble.”

“I won’t get in more trouble. Grammy likes me best,” Darcy says stepping down onto the ladder. 

..........

It’s a while before Steve jumps through the hatch and down to the ground, too many possibilities running around in his head. 

Strategies on the battlefield he can do, navigating the change in his friendship with Darcy? He isn’t so sure about that. 

He slips into the house quietly and finds Darcy in the living room with Betty sipping tea and looking at a photo album. He feels Betty’s eyes on him but he can’t take his gaze off Darcy. She tucks her hair back behind her ear and her eyes meet and hold his. Darcy's cheeks turn a soft pink and she catches the corner of her bottom lip—still kiss swollen—with her teeth and drops her eye back to the open book in her lap.

“Did I miss anything?” Steve asks, casually stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“No, but I think I did,” Betty says pointedly. “Do you have something to tell me?” Betty rubs her hands together, a Cheshire cat grin spreading across her weathered face.

“No,” both Darcy and Steve say at the same time.

“Jinx,” Darcy fires at him, eyes sparkling with mischief. Steve rolls his eyes though he can't quite keep the grin off his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hudson's Hamburgers is the hamburger place in Coeur d'Alene that Darcy mentions near the start. Awesome place if you like burgers and pie. 
> 
> Right then...I have fic to write...or maybe I'll just go potter around on tumblr a bit. Ahem.


	4. kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is the final chapter of Montana. I do hope you love it as much as I do. It's fluffy, domestic, and quite frankly they are damn adorable. 
> 
> Thanks go to Britt for beta'ing (though apparently it was hard to concentrate with the steaminess of the smut) and to Katy for enabling the hell out of me to write this story in the first place. 
> 
> Thank you everyone who kudo'd, commented and bookmarked this story to favourites. It means the world to me. <3

“Move your legs,” Darcy orders when she steps out of the bathroom, her hair still damp on the shoulders of her blue pajamas. Blue pajamas with Captain America’s cartoon face, and shield all over them. Steve closes his sketchbook and pulls his legs in to sit cross-legged. Darcy flops down on the bed and arranges herself to mirror his pose, their knees touching, her hands covering his.

"So does this mean you wanna go steady with me? Are you gonna pin me?" Darcy grins, tracing circles on his palms with her thumbs. Steve swallows convulsively as his brain helpfully supplies him with the image of Darcy pressed beneath him in the treehouse.

“Do you want that?” he asks, tamping down the nervous butterflies in his stomach. Darcy purses her lips and tilts her head to the side, her thumbs still circling his palms. 

“I asked first,” she counters with a stubborn thrust of her jaw. 

“Yes, I want that. I didn’t realize how much I could want that ‘til now,” Steve says, twisting his hands to lace their fingers, palms pressed together. “How much I want to kiss you again.”

“When did you get so smooth talking?”

“I was always this smooth.”

“No, no you were not,” Darcy laughs.

“You never answered my question.”

“Yes, I want that. I want you...us...dating...together,” Darcy says, blushing when she babbles. “Are you gonna kiss me now? Because I really think you should kiss me now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve says, leaning forward. Their mouths brush together, soft and sweet and he swipes his tongue along the seam of her lips. A knock sounds on the bedroom door and Darcy jumps back on the bed.

“Darcy, dear, I know you’re in there,” Betty calls through the door. Darcy mutters something under her breath and they both scramble off the bed in opposite directions. 

Steve grabs his book and steps across to Darcy’s window seat while she answers the door. “Really, Steve?” Darcy mouths at him and he shrugs sheepishly; just because everyone knows they are sharing a bed doesn’t mean they have to see them sharing the bed. “What’s up, Grammy?” Darcy asks. Betty pushes past her into their room her eyes sweeping across the rumbled bedspread and landing on Steve. 

“Oh nothing, dear, I just thought I’d say goodnight to you both,” Betty says with an unnerving smile that has Darcy narrowing her eyes. 

“Okaaaay, Grammy. Goodnight,” Darcy says waving at the door. 

“Goodnight, Betty,” Steve says, rocking on the balls of his feet.

“And to give you this,” Betty pulls a small box out of her pocket, tossing it across the room. Steve catches without any effort, opening his hand to look down at the box of Trojan condoms. Oh. 

“Oh my god,” Darcy says, slapping her hand over her mouth her face turning the same shade of red his ears are. 

“Goodnight, my dears and don’t forget to wrap it up, son. I don’t need any more great-grandbabies just yet,” Betty says with a devilish grin before stepping out of the room. 

“I hate my family,” Darcy mutters, closing and locking the door.

“Uh,” Steve says sheepishly, setting his book and the box down on Darcy’s dresser.

“I’m sorry my family is so goddamned embarrassing,” she says, flopping down on the bed and curling her fingers at him. “I think you owe me a kiss.”

“Hmmm,” he says taking a few steps forward to stand beside the bed. 

“Or you know we could put those to good use,” she says with a sly smile and tilt of her head towards the condom box perched on top of the dresser.

“We are not having sex in your parents’ house,” Steve says firmly.

"What? Don't you think you can be quiet?" Darcy grins as she walks her fingers up Steve's thigh.

"It's not me I'm worried about," Steve says brow arching up as he smirks. Darcy snorts, tilting her head back to laugh.

"Oh my God, Steven Grant Rogers, you’re an ass." 

"And you wear ridiculous pajamas.”

“They aren’t ridiculous, you’re ridiculous. My pajamas are adorable.”

“My face is plastered all over ‘em," Steve rumbles.

"It’s an adorable face,” Darcy says and Steve snorts out a laugh shaking his head at her. “I can totes fix things if my pajamas are so objectionable to Captain America," Darcy smirks and begins to unbutton her pajama top, Steve's eyes darkening as he focuses on the skin being slowly revealed.

"Darcy," he groans.

“Feel like stealing a few bases, Steve?” Darcy asks, unbuttoning the last button and letting her hands fall away. 

“Darce.”

"Look, I'll take my pants off if you do," Darcy says, tangling her fingers in the tie to his sweats. 

"Yeah, and you have panties on," Steve says. 

"You goin' commando, captain? I don't know if I should be scandalized or turned on? I think I shall be scandalized at the downfall of such a paragon of virtue and integrity," Darcy laughs, tugging on the tie. 

Steve's left brow ticks up and he pulls her hand away, bending down to kiss her, his knee sinking into the soft mattress. He lets Darcy pull him down over her onto the bed, her tongue sliding against his and her hands slide down his back to squeeze his ass. He rolls them over so his back is against the pillows and headboard. He lifts Darcy in his arms, turning her back is pressed against his chest, her body cradled between his knees. 

“Hey,” she huffs out a laugh and Steve pushes her hair aside to kiss her neck. Darcy squirms as he slides his hand down her belly and under the elastic of her Captain America pajamas. Darcy shifts her knees apart as he brushes his fingertips over the damp fabric of her panties. 

"You were sayin'?" 

"O-okay so the former option has more truthiness to it."

"Truthiness?" he questions. With a smirk she can’t see, he rubs a gentle circle around her clit.

"Shut up. It’s a word if I say it is," Darcy snarks hips rolling up to meet his fingers, her hands clutching at his thighs. “Oh that feel good, don’t stop.”

“Still don’t think you can be quiet,” he murmurs into her ear.

“I can be so quiet.” 

Nuzzling her neck Steve pulls her pajama top open, exposing her breasts. He cups her left breast in his hand, rolling her nipple between thumb and forefinger. Darcy gasps arching into his hand, fisting his sweatpants. He scrapes his teeth on her neck, pushes her panties aside to explore the wet folds of her pussy. “Damn, Darce, so wet,” he breathes out against her neck and Darcy shivers. 

“Must mean you’re doing something r-right then,” she says as he presses first one finger then a second into her pussy. “Oh, god.”

“I thought you said you could be so quiet,” he says, twisting his fingers to see how her body responds to him. 

“I lied,” Darcy moans, raising her arm up to clutch the back of his head, nails scraping against his scalp. Steve curls his fingers as he slides them out. Darcy moans, her hips arching off the bed. “F-fuck.”

Darcy rubs against his cock with every movement, it’s not enough to get him off but it feels so fucking good. He licks and bites her neck, moves his hand across to fondle her right breast, slips his fingers out of her pussy to circle her clit. Darcy cries out. “Close?” he asks, plunging his fingers into her pussy. “Goddamn you’re wet, Darce. You think you can be quiet when you come for me?”

“God, Steve,” Darcy gasps as he fucks her with his fingers, the heel of his hand pressing against her clit. 

“Come for me, Darce,” he murmurs in her ear, dragging his fingers on her inner wall. Darcy gasps when she comes, fluttering around his fingers as he works them in and out of her wet heat. He slips his fingers free wipes them on his sweats, wraps his arms around her tight as she comes down, kissing the side of her neck, her ear and corner of her mouth when she turns her face towards him.

“Mmm, so good,” Darcy sighs.

“And almost quiet too,” he chuckles and nips at Darcy’s earlobe. “We should get some sleep now. It’s late.”

“I don’t like that plan,” Darcy says, sitting up and pulling out of his arms. Turning around she pushes down on his knees and he lowers them automatically. Darcy straddles his thighs and the sides of her pajama top gape open as she leans forward, framing her tits rather than covering. Heat crawls down his spine and his mouth goes dry as he swallows convulsively.

“I take back everything I ever said about your pajamas,” Steve murmurs, settling his hands on her waist.

“I always wondered what you were packing in that ridiculous suit," Darcy says, curling her fingers in the waistband of his sweats and dragging her lip between her teeth. And how the hell had he not realized how fucking sexy that was? 

"You thought about my cock?" he asks, not entirely sure where he found the words to speak when she rubs her thumb over the head of his cock through his sweats. 

"You never thought about my tits?" Darcy fires back despite the pink staining her cheeks.

"Fair enough," Steve says. He knows it’s true, maybe more so the last few days when everything he thought about their friendship, how he felt about Darcy, twisted around inside his head. All his thoughts are derailed when she tugs his sweats down, her breath hitching as his dick springs free. 

“Mhmmm,” Darcy hums tracing her fingertips lightly over the rigid length of his cock. “So pretty,” she whispers and he honestly isn’t sure how to respond to that.

“We really should...n’t...something,” he stutters, his thought train derailing as Darcy curls her fingers around him, his cock jerking in her grasp. Steve bites his lip, toes curling as Darcy strokes him slow and sure.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Steve bites out, trying not to fuck up into the circle of her fist. 

“You know what I’d like,” Darcy says with a wicked smile that spells trouble. Trouble he’s pretty should he’d walk through fire for.

“No, but m’guessin’ you’ll tell me,” he says, proud that his voice is level. Darcy leans forward, kisses the corner of his mouth, his cheek, thumb rubbing over the head of his dick. 

“I wanna ride you,” she whispers in his ear and he shudders, heat pricking at his skin. Christ.

“M’okay with that.”

“You’re not gonna argue?”

“There’s a beautiful woman with her hand on my dick. M’not gonna argue about that,” he says, voice low and gravelly. 

“Good,” Darcy grins, letting go of his cock and crawling off the bed. He doesn’t whine, much at the loss of her hand on him but he groans when Darcy strips naked. Her back to him she smirks over her shoulder and tears opening the condom box. “You’re still dressed.”

“Just admiring the view,” Steve says, shoving his sweats down his legs and kicking him off the bed.

“Shirt too,” Darcy says, twitching her eyebrow up.

“Yes ma’am,” Steve grins, sitting up and raising his arms to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it aside. “Christ, Darce,” he breathes out when Darcy turns and kneels on the bed one arm curled over her tits, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. He wants to say how beautiful she is, but the words die in his throat before they can ever reach his tongue. 

“Kiss me,” Darcy orders, tangling her fingers in his dog-tags and tugging him forward. He kisses her hard, tongue slipping between her lips to curl against her teeth, tangle with hers. Wrapping his arms around her back, he pulls Darcy into his lap. Her thighs part to frame his hips, her arm still between them as she holds onto his tags. Steve shifts and his dick slides against slick folds and they both groan into the kiss.

“Condom,” Darcy gasps, and they fumble with the packaging. He bats her hands away and rolls the condom on then lets Darcy push him back into the pillows. Steve slides his hands up her thighs to settle on her hips as Darcy curls her hand around his cock. He forgets to breathe as she sinks slowly down on him. “Damn, Steve,” she moans, and his hands tighten on her hips. Steve closes his eyes and tries to get a hold of himself. He tries think about tactics, baseball, math, anything and everything other than how good she feels around him and how desperate he is to move. He opens his eyes and slides his hands up and down her sides, as Darcy slowly rotates her hips. Fucking hell.

“Didn’t know you had a tattoo,” he gasps out, skating his hand up her sides to trace his fingers over the ink on her skin. Darcy turns her upper body so he can see that tattoo on her right side. It’s a little bird, a swallow, with spread wings and curving tail, he traces his fingers along the outline of the bird. Darcy squirms, laughter bubbling up when his fingers graze the pale skin below the tattoo. 

“Don’t do that,” Darcy says in a heated whisper and Steve’s eyebrow ticks up, a smirk twisting his lips. He runs his fingertips over smooth skin. Darcy shivers and laughs. Steve is sorely tempted to tickle her again to fully examine the way her tits jiggle, the way her laughter vibrates through him. She smacks his hand away, and clenches tight around him. God, he needs to move. 

“Darce,” Steve chokes out. 

“Yes?”

“Don’t you think you should be moving?”

“I dunno, it’s quite a nice view up here on top of America,” Darcy smirks and raises herself slowly. 

“Ha ha,” Steve huffs and digs his heels into the bed thrusting up. Darcy’s mouth drops into a little ‘o’ of surprise, her breasts bounce, and her hands splay out across his chest. 

They find a rhythm together, one hand palming Darcy’s hip the other flat against the soft curve of her belly, thumb circling her clit. Darcy’s thighs tremble, her pussy fluttering around him as she comes with a gasp. He’s the one that can’t stay quiet, gasping Darcy’s name as he thrusts up into her wet heat, hands sliding on sweat slick skin as he pulls her close. Steve buries his face in her neck when he comes, her name muffled into her skin.

“Some of us are trying to sleep here,” a voice shouts through the wall. Darcy sucks in a sharp breath and lifts her head to meet his eyes.

“Oh god,” Darcy whispers and covers her mouth with her hand. Her shoulders shake under his hands with silent laughter, the rosy color of her cheeks, that matches his own, isn’t all from exertion. 

“Don’t care,” he whispers back, threading his fingers through her hair and pressing their foreheads together. Even the embarrassment of being heard can't wipe the grin off his face. He lifts Darcy up off of him and settles her onto the pillows while he disposes of the used condom. She’s still laughing when he rolls onto his side above her.

Steve kisses the hands over her mouth and the tip of her nose. Her eyes shine bright with tears of laughter when she pulls her hands away. Darcy grins back at him, cups his face in her hands and brushes her lips against his. There is laughter still, in the curve of her mouth on his, the mischief sparkling in her eyes, her fingertips tickling against his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how I said this was the final chapter? Apparently much like Nick Fury I'm a lying liar who lies, because I started writing a little epilogue story. I don't know when it will be finished, as it's only about a page long right now but I started it and that's the important thing.
> 
> p.s. for those that don't know I'm merideathislost on tumblr, if you wish to stalk my blog. Warning in advance Chris Evans' stupid face is plastered all over it, along with my inane babble.


	5. Barn Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the night before. 
> 
> Banter, and fluff, and smut, oh my.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I say the following statement a lot, but that doesn't make it any less true. This is all Katy's fault. I will take the blame for mentioning a barn dance earlier in the story but it was Katy's enabling that got this epilogue started. My only real trouble in writing it was getting Steve to cooperate and my muse to stop being so mean to me. The chapter didn't go the way I had it outlined but it still works and headcanon!Steve is happy that he got his own way.
> 
> Huge thanks go to Katy for egging me on with this verse, listening to me bitch and moan about it and then beta'ing it for me. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the read. Many thanks for all the kudos and kind words. It honestly means the world to me. 
> 
>  
> 
> P.S. The author is not responsible for toothache or diabetes that occur after the reading of this epilogue.

Morning rolls around far too soon. Steve holds still as a beam of sunlight creeps across the bed to fall on Darcy’s face. She’s beautiful in the light; the dark spill of her hair on the pillows, bare skin pale and naked and his to touch. He curls his hands into fists to keep from reaching out to trace the outline of ink on her skin. Darcy sighs and wrinkles her nose, turning and burrowing into his side. He can’t keep the grin off his face as he pushes the hair off Darcy’s face. The pads of his fingers skim down her neck and Darcy squirms, tangling their legs together.

“’Top it,” Darcy mutters, rubbing her nose against his chest. “Too early.”

“It’s after sunrise,” Steve says, trailing his hand down Darcy’s bare back beneath the sheet. He cups her ass, pulls her closer, and Darcy curls into him, drifting deeper into sleep. A soft snore issues from her mouth, and a laugh bubbles up in his chest. He swallows the laugh down and holds her just a little tighter, thinking how much everything has changed between them in less than twenty-four hours. Less than a day.

He maps her skin with his fingertips, the curve of her waist and up over the tattoo. Darcy’s skin twitches beneath his touch and her breathing changes as she swims back to wakefulness. “Steve,” she says and stills in his arms, lifting her heat to blink sleepy blue eyes at him.

“Morning, beautiful,” he says, kissing the tip of her nose. Darcy’s eyes go wide, a soft pink blush coloring her cheeks.

“Oh...it wasn’t a dream then,” she says. Her eyes flick from his face to her hand on his bare chest and back again.

Steve shifts his thigh between Darcy’s legs and cups the side of her face in his hand, thumb rubbing over her bottom lip. “No, it wasn’t a dream.” Darcy hums softly, tilting her head to the side. If it was a little quieter he’s pretty sure he’d hear the cogs working in her head as she finished waking up. “I could be mistaken but I’m almost certain dreams don’t drool,” Steve smirks, rubbing his thumb over the corner of Darcy’s mouth.

Darcy splutters and shoves at his chest. “Ass,” she hisses, pressing him flat on his back. He isn’t gonna argue with the view. Darcy’s hair is backlit by the sun, falling in a loose tangle over her shoulders, revealing more than it concealed. She frowns and scrubs at her mouth with the back of her hand. Laughter bubbles up in his chest and this time he doesn’t try to contain it. Darcy rolls her eyes, and pokes him hard in the chest.

“Ow,” Steve gasps between laughs.

“You big baby,” Darcy snarks and shifts to straddle his waist, knees pressing into his sides but holding herself away from his half hard dick. The blanket pools around her hips and her nails lightly scratch down his belly, making him squirm beneath her touch.

“Stop it,” Steve huffs, catching her wrist in one hand.

“Ticklish much, Steve?” Darcy grins in triumph, reaching behind her with her free hand to tickle his inner thigh. Steve thrusts his hips up hard. She gasps, and he rolls them over pinning Darcy’s hands above her head in a loose hold and settling down in the cradle of her thighs. “Cheat.”

“Captain America does not cheat,” Steve says evenly, trailing the pads of his fingers along Darcy’s arm.

“Such a fucking liar,” Darcy says, arching her back. Steve’s gaze flicks down to her breasts, his hand hovering above the tattooed swallow on her side. “Don’t tickle me. There are better things we could be doing,” Darcy says on a laugh, sliding her legs up to wrap around his waist, hooking her heels together behind his back. A low groan slips from between Steve’s lips and Darcy crows in triumph.

“Hush you,” he says, kissing the grin curving her lips. Steve rolls his hips slowly, dick sliding along slick folds. Darcy gasps against his mouth, hands tugging against his loose grip and his lips twist into a smug smirk. “Darce, we should...”

“Keep doing what we’re doing? I like the way you think, Captain.”

“Knock knock,” calls a cheerful voice from the hallway.

Steve freezes, meeting Darcy’s wide eyes. “Grammy,” Darcy hisses, unwinding her legs from around Steve’s waist.

“Hurry up and unlock the door before the coffee’s cold. Ain’t got nothin’ I haven’t seen before,” Betty calls through the door. They scramble off the bed, Darcy snatching his t-shirt off the floor and pulling it on as he struggles to hop into his sweats.

“My shirt,” Steve whispers as Darcy tugs her hair out from under the collar.

“Suck it, loser,” Darcy smirks, tugging his shirt down as she crosses the room to unlock the door.

“Morning, Grammy.”

Betty pushes through the door, handing a wooden tray to Darcy. “Oh now that I haven’t seen before, lucky girl,” Betty says with a wicked grin as her eyes rake over Steve’s bare chest, the rumpled sheets and the torn box of condoms on the dresser. He holds himself still, fighting the urge to cover himself with something. Though that might make him look even more ridiculous and guilty than he already does in his sweatpants, bare feet, and the blush warming his face and chest. “What I wouldn’t give to lick—,”

“Grammy,” Darcy splutters, the cups on the tray clinking together.

“Yes, dear?”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be and not harassing my...my Steve,” Darcy says, tripping over her words. Her gaze drops down to the tray in her hands. Her hair falls down, obscuring her eyes from his view as she rolls her lip between her teeth.

“Enjoy your breakfast, kids. Keep your strength up,” Betty cackles and ruffles Darcy’s hair as she backs out of the room.

“Christ on a cracker,” Darcy mutters, kicking the door shut. “Is it too late to ask Stark to adopt me?”

“I’d rather not think about what would happen if you were Stark’s daughter,” Steve says.

“Good point,” Darcy mutters, crossing the room and setting the breakfast tray on the rumpled quilt.

They sit down cross-legged on the bed with the tray between them. Darcy ignores the food in favor of pouring two mugs of steaming coffee from the French press.

Steve’s stomach clenches and he pops a slice of bacon into his mouth while he peels the wrapper off a warm banana muffin. Half the muffin sticks to the paper and he swears under his breath as he picks at it. Darcy laughs, setting her coffee down to arch over the tray and kiss the corner of his mouth, tongue darting out to trace his bottom lip. “You’re cute.”

“So, I’m your Steve, huh?” he asks, popping a chunk of muffin into his mouth.

“Shut it,” Darcy grumbles, lifting her coffee mug to hide her face. “So...what time are you heading out?”

Steve looks up from the muffin he’s dissecting. Darcy’s running her finger round and round the rim of her coffee cup, eyes glued to the middle of his chest. I didn’t say. Thought I might stick around for another day or two. Take you to the airport myself,” he answers, popping a bite of muffin in his mouth. Darcy taps her short nails on the side of her mug, lips twitching up in a thoughtful smile.

“Sup, Darce? What’s going on in that pretty little head?”

“I thought we had words about you not using the modern vernacular?” she huffs, rolling her eyes. Her smile is brighter now, like her whole being is lit up from the inside out. Steve’s belly flips and warmth fills his chest.

“You know, you might regret staying. No way Grammy’ll let you out of dancing with her at the barn dance.”

“I think I’ll live,” Steve says, nonplussed. He plucks the cup from Darcy hands and steals a mouthful. It’s far too sweet for him this early in the morning. Rubbing his fingers clean on a napkin covered in cartoon bunnies, Steve threads his fingers through Darcy’s hair, cupping the back of her neck and leaning forward to kiss her soundly.

...

 

“What are you doing?” Steve asks as he rinses the shampoo out of his hair, hot water streaming down his face.

“Getting into the shower,” Darcy says, tone syrupy sweet. Her fingers trail up his spine.

“Mhmm,” he murmurs, blinking into the shower spray. Darcy presses up against his back, nipples hard against his skin, and her hands splay out across his abdomen. “Thought we decided against sharing a shower?”

“I’m a girl. I have the right to change my mind when there is a superhot and nerdy guy naked in my bathroom,” she says, sliding her hands over his belly, her breath hitching when his muscles twitch under her touch.

“Superhot?” he asks, lips twitching up in amusement.

“And nerdy. That’s the important part,” Darcy grins into his skin, sliding her right hand down to circle around his half hard cock.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he chokes out, slapping his hand against the tiles.

“Being hospitable.”

“You this hospitable to all your guests?”

“Only to lone wolf travellers with spangly alter egos,” Darcy laughs and nips at his skin. She rolls the palm of her hand over the head of his dick. Steve’s eyes flutter shut and he widens his stance.

“Yeah, okay then,” he says, thrusting into Darcy’s hand, reaching back to grasp her hip. “Don’t stop.” Steve tries to focus on the water, on baseball stats, the last page he read of his book, and not on the slide of Darcy’s hand over his dick, the press of her full breasts on his back. He twists to turn into Darcy and her free hand splays flat against his belly.

“Stay like this,” Darcy says. Her hand tightens on his dick and she tugs him harder. Fuck. He isn’t going to last long. Darcy shifts behind him, rolling up on her toes, to whisper in his ear. “So wet for you right now, Captain.”

“Fuuuck,” Steve growls, fingers flexing on Darcy’s hip. He thrusts into the circle of her hand, leans heavily on the wall to support himself, and makes the mistake of looking down at her hand around him, thumb sweeping over the head of his dick. Oh fuck. His balls draw up, and his legs shake. 

“Darcy...m’gonna...come,” he pants. Darcy whimpers, nails dragging across his belly as she jerks him. It’s his undoing. Steve bites down on his bottom lip to keep from shouting her name as he comes, his vision turning white behind his closed eyes, ribbons of come trailing over Darcy’s hand and the shower tiles. “Christ.”

Darcy grins against his shoulder, sliding her hand away from his sensitive cock and hugging him tightly. “So much fun,” she laughs.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you’re trouble,” Steve says, turning around in Darcy’s arms. She beams up at him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“You started it. Now we’re even,” Darcy says, tugging him down into a searing kiss.

“Not even a little bit,” Steve whispers into her ear, sliding his hands down her back to grab her ass and hitch her up against him.

...

"You had enough of this yet?" Darcy asks as they sway together.

Steve tightens his grip on her hips. "Thought we were here till the end of this shindig," he says, thumbs rubbing in small circles through the soft cotton of her blue dress. She looks beautiful tonight, all dolled up in her blue dress, vintage like him apparently, heeled cowboy boots, and hair half pinned up in a glittering clip, the rest flowing loose around her shoulders. He is sorely tempted to kiss the red lipstick from her mouth as they sway on the dance floor. He fails miserably at schooling his thoughts to more innocent things when all he wants to do is strip off her dress and find out what she’s wearing underneath it despite the presence of her family and half the town filling the barn.

"They can live without us," Darcy nods, twisting out of his arms and tangling their fingers together. “Come on, Steve, before they make you line dance.”

“You’re family is watching us,” he says, giving her hand a squeeze and tugging her back into his chest. Darcy laughs, rolling up onto her toes to kiss the line of his jaw.

“Mind if I cut in,” Betty asks, and Darcy shoots him a loaded look.

“Sure thing, Grammy. I need a drink anyway,” Darcy says brightly, slipping out of his embrace. “Have fun.” Darcy waves her fingers at him, and he can’t tear his gaze away from her as she stalks across the dance floor to the bar.

“How are you liking our small town version of entertainment, Steven,” Betty asks as she takes his hand.

Steve blinks sheepishly. “It’s swell?” he answers as they dance in a slow circle. He can’t stop himself from searching out Darcy with his eyes with every turn on the dance floor.

“Mhmm,” Betty says, leaning into his chest and snaking her free hand around his waist to grab his ass.

“Betty,” Steve squeaks, reaching back to move Betty’s hand to safer territory. He catches Darcy’s eyes from across the room, watches as she covers her mouth to hide her laughter.

I don’t need to tell you that if you hurt her I own a shotgun and can still shoot. Don’t need much aim to shoot a man in the balls,” Betty says, tilting her head back, eyes fierce.

“No ma’am,” Steve says honestly.

“Good boy,” Betty nods, slipping her hand down to pat his ass. “Go get your girl.”

Your girl.

 _His_ girl.

Two words that repeat endlessly in his head as he stalks across the room.

“Have a nice dance there, slick?” Darcy asks when he steps up to her side. Her eyes are brimming with mirth and that perfectly painted red mouth twitches up onto a smug grin.

“Don’t start,” Steve says, plucking the bottle of beer from Darcy’s right hand. It’s cold and bitter on his tongue and he’s sorely tempted to press the bottle to his cheeks to cool down.

“Grammy sure does like your ass,” she grins and steals the bottle back, setting it on the counter. “C’mon, we have better things to do,” Darcy says, twining their fingers together.

He lets Darcy drag him out of the dance and out into the night. Fresh air fills his lungs and he feels himself relax after a quick scan of the area. He’s pretty sure Betty was the only one to see them leave. She grinned and winked at him, and he can still feel the blush warming the back of his neck.

“Let’s go,” Darcy says, holding up her keys with wicked grin and waving her hand towards her old pick-up truck.

"Darcy—,"

"Nope. No, you don't."

"I don't what?" he asks, bemused as Darcy fiddles with the keys and opens the driver’s side door.

Darcy climbs into the cab of the truck and fiddles with the skirt of her dress. "You don't have to play the good guy tonight," she says, slamming the door and tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. "Tonight we are going to be bad."

"We are, are we?" he says, quirking a brow.

"Ugh, don't be a jerk and you'll get lucky...Again," Darcy says, twisting her hands on the wheel.

“Can’t argue with that,” he barks out a laugh and makes his way around to the passenger side door.

...

They drive in silence, or as silent as Darcy gets when she is up to mischief. She sings softly the last song they danced to. The husky timbre of her voice sends a shiver down his spine and blood flowing south. It’s the happiest he’s seen Darcy in a long time, and maybe the happiest Steve’s felt for longer than he cares to think about. Darcy pulls the truck up to park halfway between the ranch house and the barn. She switches the engine off, opens the door, smiles saucily at him, curls her finger and tears off towards the barn.

Steve chases after her, grinning like an idiot. He catches up to her in the tack room wrapping his arm around her waist pulling her back into his chest and tickling her side. Darcy squirms against him, and he kisses the side of neck grinning into her skin. "Stop it," Darcy orders breathlessly batting at his hand. "And get that blanket."

He flicks his tongue out to taste her skin. "You're bossy you know."

"And you're a stubborn ass," Darcy says, wiggling out of his arms, grabbing the blanket, and shoving it into his chest. "C'mon then. Hop to it, soldier."

Steve grabs the blanket and follows after Darcy as she steps out into the barn, ignoring the wicker of one of the horses, and grabbing the rungs of the wooden ladder leading up into the hayloft. Her dress shifts as she climbs, and his eyes rake up her pale legs to focus on the red panties with little white stars covering her ass. Steve rocks back in his heels, mouth gone suddenly dry at Darcy dressed in his colors. How could he have missed that in the rush to get ready for the barn dance?

"Stop looking at my panties and get your ass up here, Rogers," Darcy calls down to him.

Shaking his head to clear the lust, Steve sinks his teeth into his bottom lip and climbs slowly up the ladder. "You want a roll in the hay?" Steve asks, looking around at the hay bales and loose straw scattered across rough-hewn wood. The hayloft is dark enough that they shouldn’t be seen by anyone, but it’s still a risk.

"I'm so not getting hay in unmentionable places. That is what the blanket is for, duh. You’d know that if you had actually been a Boy Scout," Darcy says, pointing to some neatly stacked bales.

“Pretty sure romping around in haylofts isn’t something covered in the handbook. What if we get caught?” Steve asks while shaking out the blanket and dropping it over the hay bales.

“Well then you best hurry up and kiss me so we don’t get caught,” Darcy grins, curling her fingers around his belt and tugging him forward.

"Whatever you say, doll," Steve grins and kisses her forehead gently, bending down to sweep her up off of her feet. Darcy squeals and flails her arms about, and Steve sets her down on the blanket.

“Jerk,” Darcy smiles up at him. She tugs at his hair and the pink tip of her tongue flicks out over her top lip. Steve settles himself between her parted knees, sliding his hand up under the skirt of her dress, and nuzzling his nose along her exposed collarbone. With a slow grin, Steve lays her back on the rough blanket. Darcy shivers and her thighs spread wider as the pads of fingers brush the damp cotton of her panties. “Oh.”

“How long you been thinkin’ of this?” he asks as he nudges the elastic of her panties aside to part her slick folds with his fingertips.

Darcy gasps, hips arching off the blanket. The sound rattles down his spine, sending heat flooding through his belly. “Since the....the...treehouse,” Darcy confesses, digging around in her cleavage to produce a foil wrapped condom. “Ta da.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, trailing kisses up the side of her neck to her lips.

“I’m awesome,” Darcy says into his mouth. Steve chuckles darkly and slides first one blunt finger and then a second into her. “Fuck, Steve.”

“Though you said we had to be quiet,” Steve says. He nips at her bottom lip, curling his fingers inside of her to drag the rough pads over the front wall of her pussy. She rocks against his hand, and Steve stretches his thumb out to rub her clit through the cotton of her white starred panties. Darcy pulls her mouth away from his to bury her face in his neck, mouth hot and wet on his skin as he works her towards orgasm.

“Steve,” Darcy moans low in her throat as she comes, clenching tight around his fingers. Her nails dig half-moons into his scalp, and Steve hips rock forward pressing the length of his erection into her hip.

“You okay, doll?” he asks, slipping his fingers from her. He licks his fingers clean, eyes closing as he savors the taste of her on his tongue.

“Holy shit, Steve,” Darcy gasps and he can’t hide the smug grin on his face as he plucks a piece of straw from her hair. “Stop that.” She bats his hand away and reaches for his belt. “You can be sweet to me later.”

“Bossy,” Steve grin widens as she opens the buckle of his belt and tugs as the button of his pants.

“You like me that way.”

“I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> " It seems to me that the best relationships, the ones that last, are frequently the ones that are rooted in friendship. You know, one day you look at the person and you see something more than you did the night before. Like a switch has been flicked somewhere. And the person who was just a friend is suddenly the only person you can ever imagine yourself with." - Dana Scully (The Rain King episode of the X-Files)


End file.
